


High Tide

by oxiosa



Series: Brarg Week 2020 [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers, Latin Hetalia - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, F/F, Gender or Sex Swap, Genderbending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:28:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27718181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oxiosa/pseuds/oxiosa
Summary: Something in the distance catches Luciana’s eyes. There, in the top right window of the Marsh House she can see light. She frowns to herself, and blinks in surprise when another light follows, and then another, until the Marsh House comes to life, its warmth reflected on the ocean at its feet.
Relationships: Argentina/Brazil (Hetalia)
Series: Brarg Week 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2025587
Comments: 4
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Characters belong to the Latin Hetalia community and their respective creators ♥
> 
> Fem!Argentina: Martina Hernández.  
> Fem!Brazil: Luciana Da Silva.
> 
> Not based but definately heavily inspired by Ghibli's When Marnie was There

Luciana sits in the backseat of the car and stares at the ocean as they rush by. Her parents don’t speak on the front seats, the weatherman in the radio, the car’s engine and the wind that rushes in through her opened window the only sounds inside the car.

This is not the vacation she had planned for her summer holidays. She wouldn’t have picked this old boring fishing town by the sea. There is not much to do around; there are no discos, no bars, no fun. Not even the beach serves for turism; the shores are rocky and the waves too wild to be comfortable or safe. It is not the kind of town you visit for a vacation, but she is not entirely on vacations. After all, her parents have traveled all the way from the city to this little forgotten town because her grandmother passed away barely a couple of days ago.

Her grandmother’s place is a little house high on top of a hill in a calm neighbourhood. It is small and simple, but it looks nice. Well kept, treated with love. As her parents unload their luggage, Luciana can’t help to stare at the little house.

“Does it bring back any memories?” her father asks with a sad smile as he helps her with her own luggage.

“A little,” she lies.

Luciana cannot say she remembers much of this place or of her grandmother for the matter. They hadn’t visited much, and her memories are the ones of a four year old girl running and climbing around. 

The inside of the house looks exactly like Luciana expected. It is small and crowded, full of plants, little useless porcelain decorations and picture frames. Clearly an old woman’s choice of decoration. She sees herself on the walls, pictures ranging from when she was a baby to some more current ones. She feels a little guilty and ashamed at that; she had never been really close to her grandmother.

The room she will be staying in used to be her grandmothers’ study. There is a big desk by the window and - luckily for Luciana - there also is a bed-couch. With the help of her father, they manage to open it and set a bed for her to spend the coming nights.

Once she settles in, Luciana can’t help to go through her grandmother’s things with curiosity. There are many pencils and brushes, papers and notebooks. There are many books about plants and painting, some about cooking and bird-sighting. She wrinkles her nose as she runs a finger through the titles; boring, boring, boring...

There is one little notebook that sticks out among the rest of the books and that she finds specially curious; it has no title, and it is blue, small and looks very _very_ old. Luciana takes it and is not entirely surprised to find it is some sort of diary. It is written in ink, the first pages ruined with time as wet spots have turned the words into black stains. She skips pages until she reaches the half of the diary, where she can make out the text.

_December 3rd,_

_I thought today would be an existing day. When mother told me father was throwing a party, I was thrilled. It had been so long since the last time they spent more than a couple of nights home, and the prospect of a party was delightful. I was not counting that I would not be invited to it, considering it happens to be taking place at my very home._

_I happen to be confined to my room tonight, very much like the princess trapped in their towers in the books on my shelves. Father has gathered with old business men to talk about money, and cars, and cigars and drinks. No woman is allowed, not even mother, so of course it is forbidden for me to even show my face around. Be a good girl and stay in your room quiet as a mouse, mother has said._

_I will be honest, it suits me just fine. I have no interest in entertaining old boring men with fat bellies and thick mustaches. I already have plans for tonight that I wouldn’t change for anything in the world. You see, I have a treasured secret..._

There is a loud bang in the room that Luciana startles.

The widow has banged open and let in a violent rush of wind which knocked down a picture frame from the wall. Luciana frowns to herself and stands up. She sets the diary aside on the desk and takes the frame. The glass has not broken, so she places it back in place without much thought. She heads back to the desk and stalls a moment at the window’s view.

From up here, she can see how the land spreads until it meets the saltmarsh that surrounds the town, and eventually the sea in the distant horizon. There is a part of the marsh that is corned by what looks like a small peninsula, a little piece of land that stretches further into the water. There, right across Luciana, lays a big old house, worn down and dulled by what must have been years of neglect. It stands alone, nested between the lush green of the trees surrounding it. It makes quite a cinematic picture as the sunset’s soft light turns everything golden and pink.

Something in the distance catches Luciana’s eyes. There, in the top right window of the Marsh House she can see light. She frowns to herself, and blinks in surprise when another light follows, and then another, until the Marsh House comes to life, its warmth reflected on the ocean at its feet.

She frowns

“Luciana, bathroom’s free if you wanna take a shower,” her father’s voice calls from the other side of her door.

“Coming!” Luciana answers.

She takes her pijama and toiletries, and forgets about the Marsh House for the rest of the evening.

That night, she has a strange dream. She dreams she is inside a long rocky tunnel, water dripping from the ceiling and gathering in puddles at her feet. She can smell the sea, can hear waves crashing in the distance. She keeps walking, and she hears two voices speaking hushly, laughing and giggling. Two girls, she realises. She sees a light at the end of the tunnel and she follows it until she reaches the source. It is one lonely girl in a white dress holding an oil lamp. She has long blonde hair, wide green eyes and a warm smile. She giggles at Luciana and places a finger to her lips with a conspiratory mischievous glint in her eyes.

Luciana wakes up next morning with her heart beating fast and with a warm feeling in her cheeks. 

She rises early, has breakfast with her parents and helps packing her grandmother's things into boxes. It is hard work, for it takes deciding what her father wants to keep, what can be donated, and what is straight down trash.

It is after his father has decided that it is enough for the day and that they should probably go buy something for dinner that Luciana remembers last night’s incident.

“Does anyone live in the Marsh House?” she asks casually.

“It has been abandoned for decades,” her father answers. Picked with curiosity, he adds; “Why do you ask?”

“I saw lights last night,” she replies.

“Must be some kids exploring,” her father shrugs it off..

“It wasn’t like a flashlight,” Luciana shakes her head. “The whole house lit up.”

“Maybe it was a dream?” her mother suggests.

“Must have been,” her father agrees.

Luciana glares at them.

“The whole house lit up,” she insists to herself.

Her parents have taken pity on her and have allowed her to roam around town as long as she is back early for dinner. There is not much to do in this town for a teenager, but it doesn’t matter. Luciana is on a mission.

She walks down the street until she reaches the feet of the hill, and then walks down to the beach that accesses the saltmarsh. In the distance, she can see the Marsh House, dark and quiet like some forgotten ruins.

She takes her shoes off, and walks across the marsh like a soldier marching to war. It is an easy thing to do as the water barely reaches her calves, even if it will not stay like this for long; it will eventually flood once the tide rises.

She makes it to the other side in no time, but something catches her attention before she can reach the old structure.

There is an opening on the rocky peninsula the Marsh House stands on. Luciana hesitates a moment, unwillingly to head into a dark cave, but her curiosity eventually wins over her. It is a grotto, a little cave that if it wasn’t for the marsh surely would be hidden underwater. She heads inside with careful steps. She is not sure what she was expecting, but she is disappointed when she reaches the end; there is nothing inside. Luciana feels a little dumb from expecting otherwise.

She walks out of the little grotto, and heads to the Marsh House. Up close, it is easier to appreciate how old it is. Plants have taken entirely over it, cracking the old rotten wood and the cloudy glass on the windows. There is a little stone dock with a pair of steps that Luciana uses to climb up. She walks with bare wet feet across the stone dock and heads towards the gate that leads into the Marsh House. She tries to open it, but there is no use. It is riddled with vines that hold it tightly close. Luciana takes a step back, and instead climbs over it.

A few more stone steps guide her up to a little yard that looks more like a little jungle. Nature has taken over it as well, so Luciana steps carefully around the high grass as she finally reaches the house. She tries to peer inside through the glass on the door, tries to clean the surface with her hand to get some of the dust out of the way. As far as she can see, the inside of the house doesn’t look any better. It might have been a mansion decades ago, but now it is only a nest for critters.

Luciana frowns to herself a little puzzled. She wonders for a moment if she might have truly imagined those lights last night.

With a low head and hunched shoulder in a little show of disappointment, Luciana walks down the steps that lead to the dock, climbs the gate and freezes in place the moment she is faced with the saltmarsh.

The sun is gone, hidden behind the town. There are still a few orange lights dancing on the horizon, and in front of Luciana a wide bast ocean stretches where used to be the shallow marsh. The tide rose while she explored the old mansion and now she is stranded for the night.

“Oh, fuck,” she mumbles elocuently.

Luciana stares straight ahead, trying to figure out how she will head back home, praying her parents don’t kill her, when a sudden bright light turns on behind her. She turns and faces the Marsh House; before her very eyes, light after light turns on in the house until it is completely lit up.

“Luciana!”

The gates she climbed open and a girl with golden hair rushes to Luciana. She jumps at her and holds her in a tight hug. Luciana remains frozen, confused and crushed by this girl’s arms.

She dressed in a shirt and a full skirt. It is a casual look that might have been in fashion _at least_ fifty years ago and yet it looks way too charming on her. She has long blond hair and green piercing eyes, but what is most important and curious is that it is the exact girl from Luciana’s dream.

The girl pulls away as suddenly as she rushed into her.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she chides gently. She takes Luciana’s hands in hers, and in a very bewilding contrast frowns down at Luciana.

“I’m sorry…” Luciana mutters dumbstruck.

She can’t help to stare, to trace and take in her delicate features. It doesn’t feel real, and yet Luciana can feel the warmth of her hands on hers. The girl smiles at her, doesn’t seem to mind that Luciana is staring at her so intently.

“I am happy to see you,” she admits in a whisper. She frowns, and her smile is gone. “But tonight is not a good night.”

Luciana opens her mouth to ask what she means, but an old woman’s voice interrupts them.

“Martina!” it calls from the Marsh House’s yard on top of them. “Where has that child gone… Martina! Come back here, you brat!”

“Martina…” Luciana whispers. “That’s you, isn’t it?”

Martina doesn’t answer. Her grasp tightens around Luciana’s hand, and she tugs at her.

“Follow me!” she orders as she drags her away.

Luciana follows after her, and tries to look over her shoulder. She can’t see much, but she still hears the old woman’s voice calling and distant music coming from the house. Martina takes them away from that, slips away from the house and instead heads for the a little isolated beach close to the Marsh House. Luciana sees where Martina is taking her; stranded on the sands, she can see a lonely rowboat.

“Help me with it,” Martina orders once they reach it.

They push the boat across the sand and into the water. Luciana is soaked from her knees down and so is Martina by the time they get the boat into the ocean.

“Come,” Martina instructs. “Take it before anyone sees you.”

She helps her in.Luciana sits in the rowboat and Martina stands in the water as the tides gently sways the boat.

“You...” Luciana says. She stammers a little, still a little struck by this whole situation. “You’re the girl from my dreams.”

Martina laughs. It is open and loud and simply delightful.

“I get that a lot,” she replies smugly. It is a charming sight as little as it lasts. Her face falls and she says. “I must go back, but we will see each other tomorrow, right? Promise me. You must promise me, Luciana.”

She is glaring at her now, her green eyes furious with the possibility that Luciana might refuse her.

“I promise,” Luciana answers helplessly.

Martina’s demeanor softens, and she smiles again. She leans forward, and gently presses her lips against Luciana. It is quick and unexpected, and Luciana can’t do anything but stare with wide eyes. Martina doesn’t seem to mind. She smiles sweetly at her, and Luciana can feel her heart stop inside her chest, her whole face fire up as she flusters under Martina’s soft fond glance.

“Now go,” Martina commands.

Luciana doesn’t have much experience rowing, but she manages to row herself back to shore. She drags the boat into the sand, and then looks up. Luciana rubs her eyes, blinks several times, pinches herself, but she is not dreaming. The Marsh House shines brightly across the water as real as it comes.

The following day she goes back to the Marsh House by sundown, mostly to prove herself it was all a hallucination. She is not very hopeful of convincing herself when she heads to the beach and finds the rowboat she used last night right where she left it.

As she rows her way to the little peninsula, the Marsh House comes to life before her very eyes.

Martina is waiting for her by the stone dock with her hands behind her back and a wide grin; this time she is barefoot and wearing a long white nightgown that dances in the night breezes with her golden hair.

“I knew you would come,” she says with a bright smile, as if she hadn’t demanded her to return last night.

She helps Luciana out of her boat and doesn’t let go once both of Luciana’s feet are on the dock. Instead she drags her away again very much like she did the previous night. Luciana’s face warms up as Martina’s soft warm fingers tug at hers.

Martina opens the gates and takes them up to the house. Luciana can’t help to stare around with round eyes. The yard’s grass is no longer wild and tall; instead it looks clean and tidy, with two rose bushes symmetrically siding the door to the house.

The house itself looks completely different as well. The plants that had crept all over it are gone; there are no more cracks on the structure, the paint on the walls looks fresh, and the glass in the windows shines as if new. It looks like the mansion it used to be.

Martina asks silence of her with an elegant finger to her lips and a mischievous smile; then she opens the door and slides inside dragging Luciana after her.

The house is quiet this time. They slip inside, walking carefully in order not to make a sound. Luciana can’t help to look around in wonder as she lets Martina tag her along. The house looks beautiful; luxurious, alive and shiny, it is an inviting warm home. It is very quiet too.

“Don’t worry. Mother and father are away on a trip,” Martina explains in a hushed whisper. “And Mrs. Cortés is sick in bed. She won’t be bothering us.”

They climb the stairs, and Martina leads them to her room. It feels a little like being inside a dollhouse; it is big and very pink. There is a big canopy bed full of frills and dolls in the centre of the room, and a bookcase with way too many books. By the window there is a desk with even more books, and papers and pens. Luciana walks up to it and stares out of the window. The view is beautiful from up here; the tide is up and a vast ocean expands until it meets the town’s lights on the other side of the marsh.

Martina sits in her bed, and gently pats the empty space beside herself.

“Come,” she calls.

Luciana walks to her and sits by her side. Martina takes a round tin box from her nightstand and opens it. Luciana peers in curiously, and takes one of the pastries Martina offers. It is a coconut biscuit.

“Your favorite,” Martina beams at her.

Luciana has never been a fan of coconut, but she doesn’t correct her; she wouldn’t want to upset Martina. She takes one biscuit, and bites into it without a second thought.

“Your room is really pretty,” she says as she munches.

It seems only polite to point, and it has the intended effect anyways. Martina blushes pleased and flattered.

“Thank you. Mother likes to make sure everything is in the latest fashion,” she says it with a strange mixture of annoyance and pride.

“You read all those books?” Luciana nods towards the massive bookcase.

Martina laughs and nods.

“Of course, silly!” she says. “You can borrow some, if you like.”

It is not like Luciana will, but she still nods her head and mutters a “Thank you”. Martina smiles at her and Luciana can’t help to blush. It is ridiculous the way Luciana’s heart jumps in her chest under the barest of Martina’s attentions. She feels her cheeks warm, looks away trying to get a grip on her emotions.

Martina scoots a little closer. One of her hands takes Luciana’s, and the other cups her cheek, gently turns her face until Luciana’s eyes meet Martina’s. Then she leans forwards and presses their lips together. Luciana closes her eyes and leans into the kiss. She still isn’t sure of what is going on, but she won’t deny it makes butterflies flutter in her stomach.

Luciana opens her mouth, deepens the kiss, and after a hesitant beat, Martina follows her lead. It is soft and warm, and tastes like sugar and coconut. Luciana feels a little breathless and light-headed when they finally pull apart. There is a little bit of comfort in the fact that she isn’t the only one; this time, Martina’s face is coloured with a bright pink and her eyes seem to sparkle.

They both burst into giggles together, and Martina flops them back into the mattress. They stare at the ceiling of the canopy, their fingers tightly entwined as if they would never let go.

“I wish it could be like this forever,” Martina says.

When Luciana turns, she finds that her once bright smile has turned guarded, her pretty turned downwards with unhappiness. The sight of her is as disheartening as it is beautiful.

Luciana gives her hand a gentle squeeze. Martina turns, and gives her a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. She scoots closer again until they are face to face and their knees tangle together. She raises Luciana’s hand to her face and places a gentle kiss on her knuckles. Luciana smiles back at her, combs a wild strand of golden hair out of Martina’s face. Martina smiles and then closes her eyes with a content sigh. It takes one breath, two breaths, three breaths, and she has fallen asleep.

Luciana remains at her side for what feels like hours, tracing her sleeping face with her eyes. In the quiet of the night, with the soft ocean breeze coming in, the cricket’s song outside, and Martina’s soft breathing by her side, it feels a little like a dream. Luciana closes her eyes, and she too falls asleep. Side by side, hand in hand.

Luciana wakes up hours later. Someone is shaking her gently, and when she opens her eyes, she can see the softest of light coming in through the window.

“Luciana.”

“In a minute,” she mumbles half asleep, and closes her eyes again.

“Luciana, you need to go.”

She rubs at her eyes and lets out a big yawn. She sits up and looks around with a puzzled expression, trying to remember where she is. She is alone in a room with old dried up paint and rooten exposed wooden boards. There is dust and spiderwebs everywhere, and Luciana groans when she realises she is laying in an old rotten bed. She jumps off, and shakes her clothes and hair as a disgusted shudder runs down her back.

For a moment she doesn’t recognise where she is, that is until she sees the window; it is opened, letting in a soft salty breeze and displaying a beautiful picture of the marsh and the town. She spent the night on the Marsh House then. Her eyes go wide with realization; _she spent the night on the Marsh House._

“Oh, mom and dad are going to _kill me_ ,” she hisses to herself as she rushes out.

The rest of the house looks as bad as the bedroom she spent the night in. It looks like something out of a nightmare, a sight worthy of a horror movie. It holds none of the elegant wonder and warmth it did last night. It feels strange walking down the corridors remembering her way in a place she has never seen; not like this at least.

She lets out a thankful prayer that the door to the yard opens when she tries it. She runs down the stairs, climbs the gate - she is not so lucky with this door - and runs down the marsh and back home. She gets a severe scolding from her parents which Luciana bears it down silently. When they demand if she has anything to say in her defense, Luciana simply shakes her head no and heads back to her room.

That night, she dreams of the warmth of Martina’s hand and the softness of her lips. Of lying together in her bed just like they did the night before. In her dream, Martina opens her eyes and smiles at her. She leans forward to press a gentle kiss to her lips and whispers “I love you” with a fond smile and adoring eyes.

Luciana is grounded for five days, but her parents eventually soften up. They make her promise she won’t disappear like that again, and then let her run free again.

She finds herself falling into a routine. During the day she helps her parents clean around her grandmother’s little house, but when the sun comes down she sneaks out and runs back to the Marsh House. Back to Martina, who is always waiting for her with bright eyes and a brighter smile.

It feels a little like living in a fairytale or in those old romantic movies. They sit under the starry sky and talk and talk for hours. Sometimes Martina brings treats, other times it is Luciana who brings sweets. She learns Martina has a sweet tooth, and finds that as charming as Martina herself.

Most of their nights Martina smiles brightly at her. For what Luciana hears, she seems to have a perfect life. Her parents travel a lot, but they always bring her expensive exotic gifts from all around the world. When they are around, they throw big parties that Martina describes enthusiastically with a big smile and bright eyes.

But there are nights when her eyes are full of pain. Mrs. Cortés looks after her when her parents are gone, and she is cruel to her, mistreats her and threatens to beat her if she even dares tell her parents. She isn’t allowed out, and doesn’t have many friends - not many _real f_ riends, at least. She feels lonely in that big luxurious house all to herself. 

There are other nights - and these are the ones Luciana hates the most - when Martina comes to her with red glassy eyes and says she doesn’t want to talk about. Luciana comforts her during those nights, kisses her tears away and holds her tight.

“Would you sing for me?” Martina would ask during those nights, and while Luciana isn’t the best of singers, she obliges.

It has been weeks of Luciana sneaking to meet Martina, of holding hands and kissing in secret. Tonight, Martina waits for her looking as splendid as ever. She is wearing a fancy blue dress and white gloves, and her hair is up in a way that gives her neck an elegant arch. Her red lips spread into a smile the moment she sees Luciana approach the dock on her rowboat.

“So, how do I look?” Martina twirls for her. “Do you love it or do you love it?”

Luciana laughs at her.

“You look very lovely, as you already know,” she grants. “What’s the occasion?”

“Is there a need for an occasion to have fun and look good?” Martina sighs dramatically.

As she always does, she takes Luciana’s hand and gently drags her, and as always, Luciana lets her lead her away. The house is loud and bright with music and laughter tonight. One of Martina’s parents' parties then. Luciana can’t help to peak curiosity, trying to get a glimpse of the scene taking place inside. She can only see silhouettes walking and dancing around through the large windows.

“Come,” Martina instructs.

They round the house until they reach a dark spot where Luciana can barely make out Martina’s face.

“No one will bother us here,” Martina claims smuggly.

She takes Luciana’s hand between one of hers, and places the other on Luciana’s shoulder. She starts swaying with the music.

“I can’t… I don’t know...” Luciana stammers, but Martina laughs at her.

“Nonsense!” she cries with mirth.

Luciana blushes furiously, and tries to follow Martina’s lead. She is clumsy and when she struggles to keep up, Martina slows down and shows her the steps patiently. Luciana eventually catches up, starts to understand what she is supposed to do, and after a song or two, they are twirling and smiling at each other. Eventually Martina leans closer and rests her head on Luciana’s shoulder. Luciana can feel her face and ears warm up, it’s highly aware of the press of their breast and hips and Martina’s warm breath against her neck.

“You have always been my favourite dance partner,” Martina whispers quietly. “My treasured secret.”

There is something about her tone and her words that strikes Luciana in a funny way. It feels familiar in a way that she cannot place. Before she can ask, Martina cups her face and gently presses their lips together in a kiss. It is unbearably soft, sweet and quick. She pulls away, runs her finger over Luciana’s cheek and smiles at her.

“Martina!”

The angry bark startles them both. Martina jumps out of Luciana’s hands, and looks around with wide wild eyes. Her face turns pale with fear.

“Run,” she whispers.

Luciana doesn’t move. She turns towards the source of that low furious voice, but sees no man. Instead, all she can see are unnaturally dark shadows slowly creeping across the grass towards them.

“Martina!” that same angry voice roars from within the shadows.

“Go!” Martina hisses. When Luciana doesn’t respond, she shoves her. “Run, Luciana! Don’t look back! Just leave!”

It takes another shove to get Luciana’s legs to work. She turns around and runs away.

“Leave her alone!” she hears Martina’s scream. “Don’t hurt her, please!”

Luciana takes a look over her shoulder, and watches in horror as a dark mass of shadows rushes after her like some wild wave. She runs as fast as she can, dashes across the yard and jumps down the stairs to the stone dock. She makes it to the boat, jumps inside and kicks it as far from the dock as possible. She drifts in the quiet water laying on the bottom of the boat, trembling and gripping the boat’s railing as if her life depended on it. She tries to catch her breath, and forces herself to look up.

The Marsh House is dark and quiet. There are no signs of the shadows, the party, or Martina.

For the first time since she has met Martina, Luciana is afraid.

She rows back to the other side of the marsh, and runs back home. She must look like a wreck, because her parents ask her with the gentleness of a person dealing with a spooked animal if everything is ok. Luciana nods her head and claims she simply is tired.

Before going to bed, she can’t help to head to the window and stare at the Marsh House. No lights shine tonight. She closes the window and the curtains and heads to bed.

There are no windows or curtains that keep Martina out of her dreams.

 _My treasured secret,_ she swears she hears a gentle voice whisper.

Luciana’s eyes snap open, and she almost trips on her rush to turn the lights on and dive to the desk. She remembers why that term of endearment had sounded so familiar. She had forgotten about the diary. She takes it, opens it and runs maniacally through the pages until she finds the entry she had read so many nights ago. When she does, she can’t help to trace the words with gentle fingers. After all, these are Martina’s words.

Luciana closes her eyes and presses the diary to her chest. It takes her a moment to open them again and start reading whatever time has not ruined.

_December 18th,_

_Today has been, I dare say, a fun evening._

_There are still some days before mother and father are back from their trip, but Mrs. Cortés has allowed me to ride to town in an unexpected display of kindness. I sneaked some snacks from the kitchen, and allowed myself a little picnic by the cliffs. It was nice to enjoy some fresh air and some good company. Josefina makes much more interesting talk than Mrs. Cortés ever did - and may I remind you my dear Josefina is a horse._

_My little adventure had some consequences. Mrs. Cortés had a lot to say about the skirt she claims I ruined (it is a little of sea water and salt!). She said I was supposed to be back hours ago, and called me an ungrateful child. She threatened to lock me in my room next time I pulled something like that, but I am not cowed. She locks me in my room all the time - she better come up with a better threat if she intends to scare me._

_Not all was bad, I confess. I came back home to Mrs. Cortés scolding, but also to a nice rose and some coconut toffees on my desk. A secret gift, from a secret loved one._

_January 4th,_

_Mother has arranged for a party, and I will admit I was thrilled at the prospect._

_I was a fool, of course. I should have seen it coming, should have seen the signs. Why else would she insist I wear my best dress? Why would she lend me the pearls and jewels she guards so protectively? I should have known better, but how does one predict a mother’s betrayal? One simply can’t, I say._

_I often enjoy parties, but this one has been a trap. Mother has introduced me to a young man who has just arrived from abroad. He comes from a very respectable family, wealthy too, and I know mother will intend to play matchmaker. She_ _insisted I be polite and charming. She says a young bright girl my age should always offer a smile. I know what she means by that. She behaved most displeasing tonight, making every single thing possible in her way to lock me in conversation with him._

_I only hope he has found me as vain and unpleasant as Mrs. Cortés claims I am._

_January 24th,_

_I was supposed to meet mother, father and my-no, I refuse to call him “my” anything. He means nothing to me, and that way he shall remain. That is the reason I never showed up to the lunch party mother organized. There are more pleasant ways to spend the day. More pleasant people too. A bit of cheese, bread and wine in a wet dirty cave with the right person is a million times better than sharing a fancy meal with a man I do not want into my life._

_I do not wish to head back. I know I will be scolded, forced to apologize for something I am not sorry._

_If I could stay hidden in this secret place, I would. My heart breaks at the barest thought that times like these might end._

_My treasured secret and I, buried together forever._

_February 3th,_

_I find myself beyond any means left. I feel trapped, choked by an invisible leash which grows tighter and tighter around my neck. If this is a war, it is one I am losing. Whatever I do, my fate seems to be written in stone._

_Father and mother are already discussing arrangements as if my marriage is already an imminent thing. Worst thing is, I think it might be. I fear a proposal might not be too far ahead._

_I dread it might be closer than I imagine._

_February 16th,_

_My time is up, and what we have feared the most has occurred. My marriage is official and will soon be announced. I will not stay to watch this nightmare unravel._

The diary stops there. Curiously enough, the next page is torn, cleanly ripped out. Luciana runs her finger over the paper ragged edges, as if she was caressing a wound.

Luciana hesitates for a couple of days, but ends up gathering courage and heading back to the Marsh House. She waits as the sun sets on the horizon, but the house remains dark and dead.

Martina doesn’t show up again no matter how many nights Luciana waits for her. It leaves her a little worried. She fears Martina might be angry at her. Even worse, she fears those dark shadows might have taken her away forever.

Luciana’s dreams have become more consistent and puzzling.

She dreams of walking down the rocky tunnel night after night. It is cold and wet, and she can hear thunder in the distance. There is a light at the end of the tunnel, and she tries to reach it, the only source of warmth in this cold place. It feels as if she was walking over mud as she sinks in the ground set after set until suddenly there is water coming from nowhere, rising until it buries Luciana. She tries to swim up, but a powerful force is weighing her down, down, down, until it is pitch black and she can’t see a thing. She can’t move, can’t see, can’t breathe, can’t scream.

After a week of going to the Marsh House and waiting for Martina in vain, Luciana decides to do some research. She is not particularly sure where to start, but the town’s library might be as good a place as any. She doesn’t find much about Martina or the Marsh House, but the librarian is helpful enough.

“It’s sort of like an urban legend, you know,” the old man explains. “The house belonged to a wealthy family of foreigners. There was a suicide… or was it a murder? I can’t recall. It has some spooky story. Tragic. It was big back then.”

As helpful as that is, it doesn’t settle Luciana at all.

“Anything else you can tell me?” she asks.

The old man scratches his bald head as he gives it a thought.

“We have some journal archives you can check if you want... ” he offers.

Luciana does. She doesn’t have the exact year, but she does have dates, so she checks those. It takes some time, but she eventually finds what she is looking for.

It is a little unsettling to see Martina’s face in the journal, beautiful and radiant even in black and white. She is smiling at the camera, as lovely as Luciana has known her; above her the title reads “YOUNG GIRL DIES CAUGHT IN HIGH TIDE”.

The title is enough to make Luciana’s eye itch and her stomach turn into a nasty knot. She takes a deep breath, and reads the rest of the report; Martina Hernández, daughter of a wealthy Argentinian couple, disappeared one stormy evening. She was found the next morning when the tides of the marsh came down. The investigators claim the storm might have caught her unaware and that she might have found shelter in one of the many grottos that flood with the change of tides. She might have been caught by the water, trapped with her death.

A dark wet rocky tunnel comes to Luciana’s mind, and she lets out a loud gasp. She knows exactly where she will find Martina.

Luciana gathers her things, and rushes outside. She looks up at the sky, and spits out a curse; the sun is setting, painting the sky with shades of orange and dark blue. She barely has any time left.

Luciana runs to the saltmarsh. She feels a wave of relief wash over her when she reaches it and can still see the swampy ground and plants. She runs across the marsh - tries at least. The water has risen enough that she keeps sinking up to her knees in mud.

Her heart beats wildly inside her chest, and she can barely push enough air into her lungs. Tears fill her eyes and run down her cheeks, making the world blurry splashes of color. Her head hurts and she feels dizzy and feverish. There is a wild bone-rooted fear making her tremble violently and pushes her to keep on marching. She feels delusional; she can hear thundering inside her skull and there is a voice inside of her that keeps on chanting _It’s too late_ , _it’s too late, too late… God, please, let it not be too late..._

By the time she reaches the grotto, the tide has risen enough to reach half of her thighs. She rushes inside struggling to make her way through the water.

“Martina?” she calls. “Martina!”

She keeps pushing forward. There is a soft light at the end of the tunnel and Luciana’s heart swells with relief.

“Martina!”

Martina sits hugging her knees to her chest by the light of an oil lamp, half buried in sea water. Her face is buried in her knees, hidden behind a curtain of golden hair.

“Martina!” Luciana calls.

Martina looks up with wide terrified eyes. She rises to her feet with trembling knees, braces herself against the grotto’s rocky wall. All color has drained from her face, her cheeks look hollowed and she has dark bags under her eyes. In her wet and dirty dress, she looks sick.

Luciana rushes to her, wraps her arms in a tight embrace that Martina doesn’t return. She is freezing cold and feels skeleton-thin between Luciana’s arms..

“You came,” Martina mutters breathlessly in such a quiet whisper that Luciana almost misses it.

Luciana pulls away, holds Martina’s face between her hand and kisses her lips.

“I came,” she answers.

A weak smile spreads across Martina’s lips. She is trembling and the hands curl around Luciana’s arms dig into her flesh with enough force to bruise. 

“You came,” she repeats. Her eyes look feverish, glassy with unspilled tears. “I have been waiting for so long...” her face falls and for a moment she seems lost. She looks at Luciana like she doesn’t recognise her. A moment of lucidity, or madness perhaps. “You didn’t come. I waited for you. I waited and you didn’t come...”

“I’m sorry,” she says. _I’m sorry for what happened to you. I’m sorry I let you down._

“You left me here,” Martina spits. As angry as she tries to sound, the trembling of her voice gives away her pain and fear. “You forgot about me...”

“ _I would never_ ,” Luciana hisses with a surge of force she doesn’t recognise from within herself.

“Luciana,” Martina’s eyes grow wide, and she seems to be lost in her head again.

Luciana shakes her head and tries to focus. The water is already lapping at her hips, and will continue to rise. If they don’t move they will be trapped inside and Luciana will share Martina’s fate.

“We can’t stay,” Luciana says.

Martina shakes her head and cling to her.

“Please, don’t leave me,” she begs. “I am scared and alone. Please. I don’t wanna stay here. Don’t leave me, please...”

“Then don’t stay. Come,” Luciana urges her gently. She takes the oil lamp and Martina’s hand. “Come with me.”

Martina obeys, clinging tightly to her with her head down and sniffing quietly very much like a child as they make their way out. They have to walk against the tide that is relentlessly pushing at them, waves after waves crashing against them, rising further up. Luciana is soaked wet from her waist down the moment they make it out of the grotto. She holds Martina’s hand tightly, as if afraid she might be gone with the tide.

Once they reach the Marsh House’s stone dock, Luciana climbs up and helps Martina out of the water. Luciana feels exhausted; her muscles ache, her knees tremble, her head is drumming, and her lungs burn. Martina stands at her side, hands clasped in front of her chest as she stares into the marsh. When most of the trembling is gone, Luciana looks up.

The view is beautiful. The sun is gone, even if the lights on the horizon still refuse to let path to the night. The marsh is half flooded and fog is starting to gather on top of the water very much like clouds.

Martina turns to Luciana, and offers her a weak smile.

“I knew you would come,” she says softly. She turns towards the water and adds: “It is time.”

There is a lonely row bow on the stone boat that both of them know is meant for Martina and Martina alone. Luciana helps her up and hands her the oil lamp. She raises her pale hand to her lips and kisses her knuckles before she lets go entirely of her.

Martina rows away in her boat with her oi lamp at her side. Luciana watches her go and has to rub at her eyes when she sees another figure materialize and join her. A girl with dark skin and black hair, in a white dress. She takes a seat in front of Martina and they hold hands. Luciana watches them drift away together before the fog rises around them and embraces them. Martina’s light banishes like a candle in the wind. When the fog clears, there is nothing left behind.

Luciana can almost feel the moment she is free in the air. It feels like a weight off her shoulders. A broken spell.

 _Thank you_ , she can feel in her bones.

The calm doesn’t last long; there is a thunderous crack behind Luciana, who turns around in fear. She stands frozen in place and watches in horror as the Marsh House comes down before her terrified eyes as if it was a card house. Luciana remains still, watching the shattered remains of the house. She goes down to her knees, exhausted in body and mind. The tremors are back, and she can barely hold herself together. Her eyelids slide close as she falls to the cold stone unconscious.

They find Luciana the next morning, curled up in the stone deck, trembling wet to the bone burning with fever. They take her to the hospital and she stays recovering from pneumonia for a week.

The first day is the hardest. She is weak, slipping in and out of consciousness, dreaming of a life that wasn’t hers.

She dreams of waking up with the sunrise, of fetching eggs on the chicken coop at the back of her house. She dreams of putting on her uniform and of walking to work. She dreams of serving in the Marsh House as a maid, of putting up with constant bickering and scolding. Dreams of the Master’s daughter, watching her with bright curious green eyes. Dreams of the first time they talked, the first time she took her hand and led her away. The first time she pressed her lips to hers. She dreams of every night after that, of how much she loved her and how much she loved her back. Dreams of that dreadful evening they caught them dancing. Dreams of running through the night with a piece of paper clutched to her chest, of being caught by a handsome angry man halfway. Dreams of the beating she received. Of waking up in the middle of the night under a raging storm with a slip lip and searing pain in her ribs. Of feeling fear clutching at her heart and forcing her to her feet to run to the marsh. _It’s too late_ , _it’s too late, too late… God, please, let it not be too late..._

She doesn’t dream of what happens next, but she doesn’t need to. Darkness engulfs Luciana’s mind and she succumbs to a peaceful dreamless sleep.

The morning they leave town is sunny and beautiful. Her grandmother’s house is empty and clean, ready to be put on sale. Luciana is up and healthy, and yet she can’t help to feel a bittersweet taste in her mouth. She is gonna miss this. She is gonna miss Martina.

She is helping her parents pack their luggage and the boxes with things his father hadn’t been willing to get rid off when she drops a picture frame. She grimaces at the sound of shattering glass, and leaves the box she was carrying on the ground. She kneels and carefully picks up the frame. She blinks in surprise when she recognizes it. It is the same that the wind had knocked down the day she arrived in town so many nights ago; an old photo of a pretty girl with thick black hair, full lips, and dark skin and eyes.

Luciana stares down at the picture, traces the pretty face smiling up at her. She cleans up the remaining shard of glass and carefully extracts the picture from the shattered frame. To her surprise, she finds a piece of paper hidden behind the photo. It is a note, a torn page smudges by time. Luciana reads it and rereads it once, twices. Her eyes head back to the picture she holds in her other hand, and then back to the note. She doesn’t react when her father clasps a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Grandma was quite a looker, wasn’t she?” he smiles down at Luciana. “You look a lot like her actually. I guess namesakes gotta look the part, uh?”

Luciana doesn’t have it in her to answer. She clutches the note to her chest and looks up to the lonely stone dock on the other side of the marsh.

She wipes away her tears, for now she understands.


	2. Chapter 2

_ My dearest Luciana, _

_ Meet me at our grotto before sundown. Let us leave this wretched place forever and start a new life somewhere else - anywhere else as long as it is just the two of us. _

_ I will be waiting for you, my treasured secret. _

_ Forever yours, _

_ Martina. _

**Author's Note:**

> ☑ Brarg Week - Day 2: ~~Movie Theater~~ | Summer Affair


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